


Unmarked Crossroads

by DebraHicks



Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Ghostbusting (Ghostbusters), Sexual Orientation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:50:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks
Summary: A powerful ghost is directing other ghosts in attacks on gay establishments.  The gang has to figure out how the ghosts are being controlled and why they are picking certain targets.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	Unmarked Crossroads

"Ray! Incoming!" Winston's voice thundered a warning. 

Peter spun, looking for the threat. It was immediately obvious. Ray was in the open, stream holding one of the Class Threes they were after, leaving his back exposed. Peter cursed loudly; his beam was tied up with another of the ghosts. 

"Egon!" 

As he yelled Peter saw that Egon had problems of his own. He was being pulled across the slick dance floor by the creature caught in his beam. Peter started to thumb his off switch, perfectly willing to lose one ghost to prevent Ray from getting clobbered, even through the Class Three could do little real damage unless Ray were thrown against the many mirrors in the establishment. 

Before Peter could take action, there was a blur of movement and a large drink tray sailed out of the mahogany bar. The ghost that had sighted on Ray had become partially substantial in preperation of the attack and there was a solid clang as the metal object knocked the entity aside. A cheer went up from the few trapped patrons, followed by the whoosh of a trap as Winston took care of his catch. 

The first ghost had recovered from his knock, looked even madder than before. Winston's beam lanced out, snagged the attacker. Peter yelled in triumph as he tossed out a trap. Across the room, Egon's trap shut on the last of them. 

"Alright!" Winston yelled. "Got 'em!" 

Peter moved across the bar, heading for where Ray was standing next to a bartender. As he approached Ray extended his hand to the man, smiling. 

"That was a great throw! You saved my neck," he explained. 

The man, raven haired and tall, returned both handshake and smile. "Thanks. But from what I've seen of you guys you would have been okay." 

"Maybe..." Ray started. 

"Well," Peter interrupted, "I'm glad you were there." He threw an arm around Ray's neck, gave him a playful shake. "We kind of like the kid here in one piece." 

Egon stepped forward, holding a handful of blinking traps. "Thank you, Mr..." 

"Steve Myers." The man shook each offered hand, nodded towards the traps. "I'm glad you got them. The past two weeks it's been a real challenge working here." 

"Not anymore," Winston promised. 

"Yes," Egon added helpfully. "Spectral activity should stop and psi levels should return to those normally corresponding with readings for this type of establishment." 

Steve looked completely blank and Ray laughed. "Bars have a lot of psi energy but you won't have anymore ghosts." 

"Oh. Thank you." 

Several of the customers had wandered out of the protective recesses and were approaching to offer thanks. Smiling, and looking typically humble they rounded up the last of the traps and started toward the door. 

Pausing just inside the ornate entrance, Winston whistled in admiration. "Nice place. Hey, Peter, how come we've never come to this place? It's close and it's got more class than your usual dives." 

"It's okay by me," Peter commented. "Though this kind of place makes some people nervous." 

Seeing his teammates confusion, Peter pointed at a small sign just behind the desk. Three sets of symbols were displayed in gold and black enamel - male/female, female/ female and male/male. 

"Oh," Winston observed, falling silent. 

"Well," Ray picked up into the awkward silence. "It's got to have a better band than that last place you took us." 

The door slammed on the dark street as Peter stormed into the firehouse, running straight for Janine's desk where Egon was on the phone. "This had better be good Egon! Suzanne was just..." 

Egon made a sharp cutting motion that shut Peter up. "Correct, Ray. Yes, we'll be there in twenty minutes." 

The blonde hung up and moved toward the lockers. 

"What's happening?" Peter demanded, recognizing the urgency in the man's movements. 

"There's an unspecified number of ghosts attacking West Chapel Hospice." 

"Oh," Peter said, stripping off his heavy coat and expensive suitcoat then sliding the pack over the silk shirt. "How about Winston and Ray?" 

"Winston hasn't checked in yet," Egon acknowledged. "Steve will get Ray to the manifestation site." 

"Steve? As in the bartender?" Peter questioned. 

"Yes," Egon explained. "They are attending a Star Trek convention together. It is more expedient to go directly from the convention center than returning here first. I suggest we take Winston's pack as well since he may contact us on the cellular phone." 

"Let's hit it!" Peter grabbed Winston's pack as Egon snagged Ray's. 

Peter stared thoughtfully out the side of Ecto, watching the rows of houses give way to medical offices as they approached the hospice. Something was tugging at the edge of his thoughts about West Chapel. Egon took the last corner and the flash of ambulance lights filled the night. Across the small green lawn and spilling out onto the circular drive was an array of patients in various modes of transport, wrapped in layers of protection against the light snow. Around them, looking more concerned than frightened was a small horde of nurses, volunteers and doctors. 

"That's it," Peter mumbled to himself. "Egon, this place is a hospice for AIDS patients." 

Cool blue eyes regarded him skepically. "Peter there is no danger of contamination from an AIDS..." 

Peter chided, "I know that. But don't you think it's strange that we've been called to two gay bars, a gay community center and now here, all within the past five weeks?" 

Ecto came to a smooth stop next to where Ray and Steve were standing, looking decidedly out of place in jeans and Star Trek sweatshirts under their jackets. Peter reached for the door, was stopped by the thoughtful look on Egon's face. 

"There may indeed be some pattern to these hauntings, Peter. I'll attempt to collect some additional readings during this elimination. This may require further investigation upon our return to the firehouse." 

As they bailed out of the converted ambulance a cab pulled up behind them and Winston climbed out. As Egon headed toward one of the doctor's standing just away from the door, Peter met his two teammates at the rear of the vehicle. 

"Is there anything I can do?" A voice questioned tentatively. 

Peter turned to find Steve standing on the curb just behind them. "Thanks but this is why we get the big money." 

Nodding, but still looking very serious, the man said, "Maybe I'll see if the nurses need any help." 

"Good idea," Ray agreed. 

Egon joined them, a grim expression on his fair face. He had pulled out his PKE meter after talking to the doctor and was scanning the building. 

"It would seem," he explained, "that we are dealing with four class threes and one class five. They are not endangering patients at present but several patients could not be evacuated and we shall have to take care not to hit any power connection." 

Egon consulted the meter again. "The ghosts are not together which should work to our advantage. There are currently three on the first floor and two on the second level, including the class five." 

"Okay, let's work our way up," Winston ordered, unlatching his thrower and clicking on. 

"Go get 'em guys," Steve encouraged from the side, giving them the thumb up sign. 

Several patients and onlookers joined in Steve's yell of enthusiasm. Ray returned the sign as the foursome trotted toward the entrance. Just before the doors slid open, Egon took over the lead, holding the meter out before him. The door cut off the crowd noise, leaving them in eerie silence. 

Egon slowed, studying the meter. "The entities are moving," he announced calmly. Swinging slowly around, he stopped and pointed. "One target, that way." 

"Let's get it first," Peter urged. "We got it four to one." 

He trotted down the corridor, kicking open the door that Egon had pointed to and charging in. Winston came in next, Egon and Ray swept in behind them. The ghost attacked, sweeping down toward them. Three streams flashed out; Egon held his fire to collect readings. Ray was the only one to hit the target right away. The creature jerked toward the wall, intent on breaking the stream. Peter's red-gold beam joined his companions in halting the escape. 

"Trap out!" Egon yelled, flipping off his reader to toss out one of the metal units. 

The tall blonde stomped down on the activation petal - and three ghosts blasted through the wall directly behind him. There was no time for a warning. The trap snapped shut as Egon was hit. He was thrown several feet forward, slammed into the white wall and slid bonelessly down to the cold floor. 

"Egon!" Peter yelled. 

Winston's ray snagged one of the attackers. Protons danced out from Ray's thrower, knocking the third away just as it dove at the downed Ghostbuster. Peter vaulted a desk, shoved aside a chair and straddled his friend's still body. He fired at the last ghost, missing but causing it to break off it's attack. 

"Trap!" Winston demanded. 

"Ray!" Peter refused to drop his guard until he knew how badly Egon was hurt. "I've got your back." 

A trap sailed out, landing between the two Ghostbusters and their target. Winston drug his captive down. As soon as the doors clicked shut, Winston was moving, running toward Peter. Peter yelled in anger as two of the ghosts attacked, trying to get by him to Egon. 

"Heads up, Peter," Ray yelled, taking aim at the two. 

Peter was not going to be taken by surprise a second time. He swung toward the wall in time to catch the last ghost appearing only inches above Egon's sprawled form. Cursing, seeing that he was too close to fire, Peter racked his thrower and dove for Egon, landing on his friend and rolling him away. A proton stream sizzled over his head as Winston fired at their assailant. 

"Trap open!" Ray yelled, drawing his companions attention to the open trap. 

As the second ghost disappeared into the small unit, Ray snagged the third, and using the same trap, confined it. A moment of absolute silence claimed the room. 

"Where's the last one?" Peter demanded, thrower back out. 

Moving protectively closer, forming a ring around Egon, Ray pulled out his PKE meter. He frowned at the readings and adjusted the dial. 

"Nothing," he reported. 

"Where'd the five go?" Winston questioned. 

Ray swept the meter around 360 degrees. "I don't know. But there's nothing in the building now." 

The minute Ray said that Peter slammed his thrower into place and dropped down beside Egon. Ray came down opposite him, Winston next to him. Peter slipped his arms under his still friend, raised the slender form into his lap, fingers searching the pale throat. A strong beat pounded under his touch and he dropped his head in relief. 

"Peter!?" Ray's voice was filled with terror. 

Peter's green eyes snapped up. "No, no." He understood howhis reaction had looked to the youngest ghostbuster. "He's alive. I think he's just unconscious." 

"I'll go find a doctor," Winston surged to his feet. He looked as relieved as Peter felt. "Shouldn't be too hard to get one around here." 

As he trotted out, Peter gazed down at the pale face, absently running the back of his hand over Egon's temple. There was a soft sigh from Ray. When Peter looked up he could see the doubt still lingering in the dark gaze. He let one hand drop down to rest on Egon's shoulder; with his other hand he took Ray's arm and shook it slightly. 

"He'll be okay," he assured in what he hoped was a steady voice. "He's just taken a hard knock." 

Ray didn't respond to the quiet statement. He said, "They were after him, Peter." 

"What?" Peter questioned, unsure of who he was talking about. "Who?" 

"The ghosts were after Egon," Ray insisted. "You didn't notice? They practically ignored the rest of us." 

He started to protest, stopped. The fight had seemed strange. The ghosts had not come anywhere near him until he had taken a defensive position over Egon. Winston had been targeted once but only after Egon was down. 

"But why?" Peter heard himself ask. 

Before Ray could answer Winston ran in with a doctor in tow and all thoughts of ghosts and mysteries vanished. 

"Egon!" Ray started. "You shouldn't be coming down..." 

The tall blonde waved him off. "I'm fine, Raymond. The dizziness was gone by early this morning." 

Ray was not to be put off easily. "Peter, tell him that he could trip on the stairs and..." 

Again he was cut off, this time by Peter's sarcastic statement. "Leave him alone, Ray, when he falls and breaks his leg, or his neck, then we can say we told you so." 

Peter looked up from his lunch to find Egon's blue eyes scowling at him. Peter returned Egon's scowl, both of them unblinking. After several minutes of the staring contest Peter's mouth twitched, then Egon's. But it was Ray who finally laughed, putting an end to the contest of wills. 

"I came down, Ray," Egon picked up calmly, "to discuss the ramifications of Peter's questions just prior to our arrival at the hospice." 

In the rush of taking care of Egon, Peter had all but forgotten his questions of the hauntings common cause. Now they flooded back with even more enigmas added. 

"What question?" Ray asked quickly, his enthusiasm immediately becoming apparent. 

"Why our current series of hauntings would all be directed toward locations frequented by gays," Egon explained. 

Ray's eyes grew wide. "You're right, Peter," he said in surprise. 

"Naturally," Peter returned. "But we have another question to go with that one." 

Picking up the cue, Ray said, "Why would the ghosts on the last job all pick Egon as a target?" 

It was Egon's turn to look shocked. "Are you certain?" 

"Believe it, man," Winston said as he came up the stairs, wiping his hands on a towel. "You were definitely top of their hit list." 

"And," Ray added to the growing list, "what happened to the Class Five we detected?" 

Putting on his thoughtful scientist look, Egon paced slowly to the window, rubbing his chin. "All seemingly unrelated questions." 

"Come on, Egon." Peter stood up. "If I've learned anything in the past five years it's that nothing in this job is unrelated if you and Ray think it might be related." 

"So," Ray popped in, "that means it's time to make like Sam Spade, to ask for "just the facts ma'am..." 

Peter reached over and put his hand over Ray's smiling mouth. "We get the idea, Ray. And you've got to quit watching all those detective shows." 

Egon turned away from his contemplation of the gray winter world outside the window. "I'll start a search through the local archives on any supernatural occurrences concerning these locations, though it would seem unlikely that a common element can be found among locations." 

"So, it's probably a person," Peter said. 

"I'll talk to Steve," Ray volunteered. "The gay community can be pretty closed mouth to outsiders, but under the circumstances they may be willing to talk about it." 

Slightly surprised by Ray's openness about Steve, Peter said, "Okay, that leaves background checks on owners and such." 

The three turned toward Winston waiting for him to decide what he was going to do. He said, "I'm gonna tune Ecto." 

"Break off!" Egon yelled, cutting his beam. "The Class Five is the target. Two doors down!" 

The ghost that sailed out of the solid oak cabinet straight toward the tall blonde had other ideas. Peter's beam hit the spud dead on, driving it back to the wall then down into the trap. 

"Go! Egon!" Peter urged. "Winston, follow him." 

Egon headed at a dead run toward the other room, Winston close as a shadow behind him. The second they were out the door another ghost shot toward the connecting wall. Ray's beam arched out, snagging it. 

"Trap out!" Peter yelled, stomping on the trigger even before the device stopped moving. 

He didn't wait to see the results, ran toward the hall. The whine and sizzle of unleashed protons sounded loud from next door, hurrying Peter on. Rounding the corner he slid to a stop, searching for a target. There were more than enough for him to choose from. There wasn't any question, Peter drew down on the class Five that seemed to be in control of the situation. 

The shot was on target but before it could hit a class three darted in between his stream and it's target. For the first time in his career, Peter cursed a catch. Winston tossed a trap, letting him finish. He whirled, too late, as the Five swooped straight for Egon. The blonde was barely holding off a swarm of lesser creatures, unprepared for another adversary. 

"Egon!" Ray yelled in warning as he joined Peter at the door. 

Ray's pack fired, forcing the creature to dodge away. It slammed into the wall of the old community center, sending bricks and plaster flying. Debris rained down around the four Ghostbusters. With a shriek of triumph the creature hit the wall again, harder. They realized its intent immediately. 

"Jump!" Winston ordered Egon, running toward him. 

It was too late. In horror Peter watched the wall topple toward Egon. But somehow Winston was there, strong hands yanking Egon to safety. Relative safety, Peter saw as bricks pelted the two men. A cloud of dust billowed out, filling the small room. Peter swatted through it toward the crouched forms of his friends. Winston had gained his feet, offering a hand toward Egon. 

"Are you two okay?" he coughed. 

"Yes..." 

"Look out!" 

Ray's yell reminded them of the still very active enemy. As one they swung around, weapons out and ready. The Five screamed in frustration. With a final high pitched sound, it plunged through the outside wall. The other four ghosts vanished as though they had never existed. For a moment the team all simply stared at the downed wall and each other. It was Peter's fear that finally overcame his shock. 

"That is it!" he barked. Racking his thrower with a hard move, he spun toward Egon, pushing his finger into the taller man's chest. "No more jobs for you until we have a better handle on this!" 

He watched all three of his companions' eyes widen at his harsh order. Egon's blue eyes went dark, his own fear and frustration ignited by Peter's reaction. Closing with Peter he crossed his arms and stood defiantly in front of him. 

"If we are to "get a handle" on the situation," he stated coldly, "I will have to continue..." 

"Continue what? Trying to get killed?" Peter nearly yelled. 

"The situation will have to be analyzed. There is..." 

"And what about the rest of us?" Peter cut him off. "Don't you care that we could get killed saving your butt..." 

Egon's face grew cold and Peter knew he had overstepped the line. Even in the worst situation he knew that Egon would never put his friends in danger. He watched the blonde take a deep breath, calmly exhale it. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ray start toward them, intending to break up the argument. 

"If you believe that, Venkman," Egon started, "then you are..." 

"Excuse me." 

The unexpected, new voice shut them up faster than anything Ray could have said. As one they turned toward the door. An older man with a medium build, thin red hair, and an open round face was standing just inside the ruined room. He seemed to be waiting patiently for them to recover from their anger and surprise. 

"I believe you gentlemen are looking for me. My name is Dr. Richard Genkins. I'm the one the ghost is after." 

Peter leaned back in the hard chair, tilting it on it's back legs. Even after earning a PH.D in psychology the way humans thought sometimes amazed him. Next to him he could see sorrow and dismay written on Ray's expressive face; Egon, as usual, looked curious. Winston looked surprisingly uninterested. Letting the chair fall back down Peter summed up what Genkins had told them. 

"Your father died two months ago?" he asked in verification. "And since then his ghost has been trying to find you?" 

"Yes," Richard smiled sadly. "It destroyed my father when he found out I was gay. He disowned me and promised to rid the family of my name." 

"Gosh," Ray said in confusion. "How could he do that?" 

"I'm not the only one that it's happened to." Wryly, Richard added, "I do seem to be the only one that's being haunted by it." 

"I do not believe that this entity is your father," Egon announced suddenly. "It is very unlikely that a human spirit could obtain the power of a class Five." 

"And it doesn't explain the attacks on Egon," Winston observed. He rose, collecting the coffee pot to fill three cups. 

Richard looked thoughtful for a moment. "Father was a career Army officer. He knows that the four of you are the best. It's my guess that he sees you as the leader Dr. Spengler." 

"And," Winston continued, drawn into the conversation despite himself. "Like any good soldier he knows that if you take out the leader you cause confusion and demoralize the unit." 

"Thanks, Sgt. Rock," Peter quipped. 

"I still don't understand why he.. it didn't spot you at the hospice or any of the other places?" Ray wondered. 

Flushing a little, Richard explained, "I can explain that one too. Fifteen years ago I weighted nearly two hundred pounds and had a full beard, your typical, hippie history professor." 

"So," Peter started to recap, "your father dies eight weeks ago and his spirit starts trashing the places gays frequent, looking for you. Only he doesn't spot you because of the changes. Does that about sum it up?" 

He looked to Egon for confirmation. Leaning forward over the battered table, Egon rested his chin in his hand. Finally the azure eyes met Peter's emerald and the scientist nodded. 

"That would seem to be a logical conclusion," he agreed. "But I am convinced there is some other element complicating this scenario." 

The tall blonde turned to the other man. "I would like permission to examine your father's home and possessions." 

Looking surprised, Richard said, "I don't know if I can do that." Quickly, he added, "I'd like to but my cousin inherited the house. I can try to get you in but it may not be possible." 

"What are you thinking, Egon?" Ray asked. 

"It might be that, knowing he was dying, Daniel Genkins made some sort of... arrangement to gain enough power after his death to complete his revenge against his son." Egon explained in a level, teacher's voice. 

Ray's amber eyes widened. "Magic? He'd risk a spell to get revenge on his own son?" 

All eyes at the table turned toward Peter. He met Ray's expression of confusion, brain scrambling to find an answer for something that didn't have an answer. He was saved by Richard, who knew better than anyone the hopelessness of an explanation and didn't try to give one." 

"If we go to the house now there may only be the housekeeper there. It might be a good time to try getting in," he suggested. 

Egon nodded. "Very well. I'll gather the equipment." 

From the corner of his vision, Peter saw Ray staring thoughtfully at Richard. Knowing his friend was still upset by the older man's situation, Peter laid a hand on his shoulder, promising himself that he would speak to Ray later. Ray met his eyes with a steady gaze that held a surprising amount of understanding. Then Ray's look dropped in near embarrassment, through over what Peter could not have said. 

They managed to get four blocks before the phone in Ecto rattled the calm. Winston grabbed it. 

"Ghostbusters. Yeah? Give me the address." 

As he hung up, Peter edged forward in his seat. "What you got, buddy?" 

"Art show," Winston caught Peter's gaze in the rearview mirror, cut his eyes toward the tall blonde sharing the backseat with Peter. "Sounds like our favorite bunch." 

Egon reached for his pack sitting on the floor. Peter wrapped his fingers around the narrow wrist, stopping his move. Egon straightened, assuming the same stubborn look and stance that he had held in the community center that morning. Peter took a deep breath, ready to argue it out, just as stubborn as his tall friend. Before Peter could think of a new approach, Ray twisted in the frontseat. 

"Egon," Ray said gently, "I want you with us; we're better when you're with us." 

Releasing Egon, Peter let Ray talk, touched, as always by his friend's open expression. Richard sat silently on the seat next to Egon, watching with intense curiosity. 

Reaching over the seat, Ray touched Egon's shoulder, said emphatically, "But we may not be able to protect you. We don't want you hurt. Let us take this one. I can get the readings you need." 

"And I'll watch Ray while he gets the readings," Winston volunteered. 

"And I'll watch both of them," Peter quipped. 

"We can drop you two off to start the other end of the research," Ray explained calmly. 

Even across the car, Peter could see Egon's hard expression melt under Ray's warmth. After another short moment, Egon reluctantly nodded. Peter smiled, none of them were immune to Ray's gentle persuasion, a persuasion even more effective because Ray was unaware he was using it. Ray returned the nod, smiling. He turned back to help Winston navigate to their new destination. 

Barely controlling his smile, Peter couldn't resist giving Egon a single gloating glance. The hardness flashed back but faded almost immediately as Egon acknowledged Ray's power over them. 

"Be cautious," he warned. 

"Always," Peter agreed. 

An hour later Ecto slid to a stop in front of large, white building. Once again the inhabitants were scattered across the front sidewalk. The crowd turned, waving as the Ghostbusters broke from the car and ran toward the building, unhooking their throwers as they moved. Ray lead the way, PKE meter out. 

"Give us a target, Ray," Peter ordered. 

A puzzled expression passed over the young face. "We've got two class threes in the front and two in the back." 

"Where's the five?" Winston questioned. 

He sped up enough to beat Ray to the doors, hit them with his shoulder and barreled in. A heavy chair sailed at them as they separated, taking aim. Winston took one ghost almost without slowing; Peter tossed a trap under it. 

"Ray? The Five?" Peter remained him as he sighted the second ghost. 

"He's not here," Ray informed them. 

Picking up a huge statue, the remaining ghost interrupted Ray's readings by tossing it toward the auburn haired ghostbuster. Ray dove forward, landing hard on his stomach as the heavy bronze slammed against the wall. Winston's stream caught the ghost and it was Peter's turn to throw out a unit. They were running for the back of the building even as the units doors snapped shut. 

"Okay, Ray," Peter demanded. "If it's not in there then where..." 

"It's not in the building, Peter," Ray explained. 

A cold wind stiffened Peter's back and he jerked to a stop in front of a set of double doors. A sudden flash of insight filled him with fear. 

"Decoys!" he yelled. "The Class Five is after Egon and Richard!" 

He turned, the other two ghosts completely forgotten. Winston grabbed his arm, stopping his flight. He jerked away. 

"We have to get back!" Peter tried to control the panic in his voice but heard it bounce off the walls. 

"Peter," Winston said sternly, obviously hating what he was saying. "There are helpless people in this building. We have to stop these ghosts first." 

"But..." 

"Winston," Ray suddenly spoke up. "If Peter is right the ghosts will leave when we do." 

"And if he's wrong people could get hurt," Winston said levelly. 

Peter looked at Ray for help, what he found was bleak acceptance in the amber eyes. With a sinking feeling he knew they were right. Acknowledging what they had to do, Peter whirled and sprinted down the last few feet of hall. 

"Let's do it!" he yelled. 

Within ten minutes they were back in Ecto and driving hell bent for the Genkins house. 

"Looks okay," Ray said in relief as they rounded the corner and spotted the normally lit building. 

Peter remained silent, the chill in his blood deepening. Ecto's brakes squealed in protested as Winston came to a stop at the curb. Despite his assurances of normalcy, Ray was the first one out, nearly falling in his haste. He reached the front door, throwing it open. 

"Egon?" he yelled. 

There was no answer. The youngest ghostbuster sprinted up the stairs. Peter started toward the back of the large house, but Winston pulled him to a stop. 

"Listen!" Winston ordered before Peter could protest. 

From somewhere nearby came the sound of pounding and a voice raised in protest. Glancing around, Peter spotted a barricaded door under the stairs. 

"There." He pointed. 

Jogging forward Winston shoved the chair out of the way, jerked open the door; an angry Dr. Genkins was standing in front of them. Peter's heart took another lurch at the absence of Egon. 

"Egon?" Genkins started. At their blank stares, he pushed past, moving toward the stairs. "I was checking in here, Dr.Spengler was in the library. I heard him yell something and he came in here, that's when my... the ghost appeared. Dr. Spengler shoved me in the closet, locked the door and went..." 

"Peter!" 

Ray's desperate, fearfilled voice carried loud through the well appointed house. Peter took the stairs three at a time. He sprinted into the master bedroom, staggered to a stop, the breath disappearing from his chest. It was every nightmare he'd imagined on the harrowing trip. The room was completely wrecked, broken glass littered the floor, furniture lay in pieces among sheared drapes. Peter barely noticed any of it. All he could see was the two forms huddled on the floor under the shattered window. 

Ray held Egon in his lap, partially resting against his chest. There was blood everywhere, turning Egon's uniform a sickening crimson, streaking the gold hair, soaking Ray's jumpsuit. Peter's mind locked on one thought, Egon had to be dead, no one could survive losing that much blood. He heard Winston come in behind him, mutter a harsh curse; he heard Richard's soft sound of dismay. There were footsteps behind him and someone said something about an ambulance. He couldn't react, knew if he reacted he would have to acknowledge the reality of the vision in front of him. 

His eyes met Ray's and the pain in his friend broke his terrified paralysis. He ran across the thickly carpeted floor, dropping down next to his two friends. With a shaky hand he reached out and pressed his fingers into the warm blood that covered Egon's throat. He held his breath, unable to met Ray's pleading look. Slowly, the feel of life beating under his fingertips let him breath again. 

Looking up at Ray, he let the hope fill his eyes. "He's alive, Ray." 

Choking back a sob both of dismay and relief, Ray nodded, unable to say anything. Peter's own control was slipping fast as he surveyed the damage. Long, deep cuts, maybe from claws, maybe from the broken window, ran down Egon's slender form, bleeding freely. Smaller cuts sent little streams into the gold hair. When Peter turned the pale face he flinched at a nasty cut that crossed Egon's right eye. Crimson colored tears leaked from under the pale lid. 

"Damn," Peter mumbled. 

A cold hand touched his and he looked up at Ray. There was determination in the amber eyes, highlighted by tears. 

"He'll be okay, Peter," Ray whispered. 

Raising a hand Peter wiped uselessly at the tears running down Ray's face, smearing Egon's blood over his cheeks. Ray pulled Egon closer, letting his chin rest in the fine gold hair. Feeling helpless, Peter reached across and covered the hand that was holding Egon's. It was all the comfort he could offer as they waited for the ambulance. 

"We should get the packs," Winston said quietly. 

It was the first time any of them had spoken since they had been shepherded into the small waiting room an hour earlier. They had barely noticed when Richard excused himself to go call Steve and give him the news. Winston sat next to Ray, occasionally patting the dropped shoulders. Ray was a study in depression, head down, an occasional sigh escaping from him. Peter had alternating between harassing the nurses for news and trying to reassure Ray that their friend would be fine. As much as he hated to admit it, he had been relieved when Steve had arrived to help share some of the burden by sitting in silent support next to Ray. Peter had been unable to keep repeating something he was beginning not to believe himself. 

"Why?" Peter asked vaguely, forcing his tried eyes to focus on the big ghostbuster. 

"Because it may come back," Ray filled in. 

That thought brought Peter surging to his feet. "Geez, you're right!" 

He started toward the outside and the emergency room doors swung open to reveal a calm looking Dr. Morris. Peter stopped so suddenly that his boots slipped on the waxed floor. Everyone came to their feet but Peter was closest to the doctor. 

"How is he, Doc?" He was surprised at how calm his voice sounded. 

Morris nodded thoughtfully. "Better than it seemed like he would be." 

"He's going to be okay?" Ray asked softly. 

"He should be fine within a few weeks," the doctor assured them. 

Peter took the first breath in what seemed like hours, felt the strain of waiting settle in his knees, making them shaky. Winston must have sensed his problem as a strong hand went under his arm, almost keeping him up. Ray didn't try to stay up, he sank back onto the couch with Steve guiding him down. 

"Thank God," he whispered. 

But Peter had been too scared for too long to let go of it so soon. A single look at the fear still reflected in Ray's expression said that he felt the same way. 

"His eye..." Peter started. 

"There was some embedded glass but we got it all and the eye should heal without any damage to his vision. The broken arm and bruised ribs will require him to limit his movement but should heal without complications." He paused, then added, almost reluctantly, "There will be some scarring but we managed to seal rather than stitch most of the visible cuts." 

Peter found himself pulled into a hard hug as Winston let out a yell of joy. Behind them, Ray's relief translated into tears; Steve put an arm around his shoulders. Pulling away from Winston, Peter sat down and gave Ray a long hug, totalling his hair. Over the auburn disarray, Peter smiled at Steve, silently thanking him. The other man returned his smile. 

"When can we see him, Doc?" Peter questioned. 

"He should wake up sometime tomorrow. You can see him then." 

Coming to his feet, Peter took command. "One of us will need to stay with him, Doctor." 

"Yeah," Morris said with a smile. "I know that. You've cluttered up my hospital rooms often enough. I'll take care of it." 

For Peter the moment of elation had turned very quickly, had become dark -he wanted this ghost. 

"We need to make some plans," he said firmly. 

Six hours later Peter arrived at the hospital to relieve Ray. They had decided that they would take shifts. One look had convinced both Winston and himself that Ray should go first. Peter would follow then Winston in the morning. Priority in the morning was going to be checking out the Genkins' house, trying to find whatever it was that had excited Egon. 

He opened Egon's door slowly. Ray was sitting at an awkward angle in a straight back chair next to Egon's bed. Peter shifted his gaze to Egon, frowning. Egon lay as he had when the doctor had first let them in. An IV still dripped plasma into his right arm, another one fed who-knew-what into the left. He was so white that Peter had to look twice to see the bandage layered across his eye or the smaller ones that dotted his throat; the light blue cast looked shockingly dark against so much white. Moving closer, Peter noted that the lines of pain that had marked the handsome face were gone, smoothed by drugs and, he liked to think, the nearness of his friends. 

Ray startled awake as Peter moved closer, blinked blurrily at him before smiling softly. 

Peter returned the smile. "How's it going?" 

"Great," Ray said in a whisper. "About an hour ago he started mumbling in his sleep. The nurse said that was good." 

Silence, warm and comforting, filled the small room. Peter watched Ray's hand cover Egon's, the blunt fingers stroking the longer ones gently. Ray's expression was a thousand miles away, his eyes reflecting sorrow that Peter couldn't guess the cause of. That worried him. 

"Steve's gonna come by tonight," Ray said suddenly, shaking off his silence. "Maybe cook if Winston doesn't feel up to it." 

Peter nodded, still puzzled by the momentary depression on Ray's normally cheerful face. Drawn by the now hidden pain, he moved closer. 

"What the matter, Ray?" 

Though Ray was usually open and free with his emotions, he could also be quite stubborn if he didn't want to bother anyone with a personal problem. For a moment Peter expected evasion, could see that for a moment Ray considered exactly that. But, very softly, Ray answered him. 

"Egon..." 

"Hey, Egon's going to be..." 

"Not that. Egon being hurt; Richard's own father doing this to him. Did you know that Steve's mother will talk to him but not his father? He didn't go to his sister's wedding because the in-laws might have taken offense. It doesn't make any sense. How could a parent..." Ray's anger died quickly, leaving sad silence. 

Peter had heard soft words of outrage from Ray before, whenever they were confronted with injustice, with hatred or stupidity. This time though he sensed something else, something more than just confusion at the way human beings treated each other, a sorrow that kept avoiding his understanding. Kneeling next to the chair, he waited until the amber eyes met his. 

"And?" he prompted gently. 

To his surprise Ray shoved violently away, going to the window to stare out into cold, gray afternoon. Peter waited, giving Ray the space he obviously wanted. The wait was not long. 

"And.." Ray started, stopped. He turned around and met Peter's gaze with a steady, almost defiant stare. "And I wonder what my parents would have done if they had found out." 

The statement didn't register. Peter ran it through again, trying to make sense of the wording. "You mean what would your parents have done if they thought you were gay?" 

"No." Ray smiled gently, the defiance replaced by a touch of amusement. "Don't be stubborn, Peter. I mean I am gay." 

Peter stared, a swarm of emotions assaulting him, blocking thought and response, his eyes were locked with Ray's as if even that small move were beyond him for a moment. Anger broke free first, as it often did, anger compounded of betrayal and the feeling of mistrust. He didn't have to say anything, the heat flared in his eyes and he watched Ray take a sharp breath as it hit him. 

Before Peter could speak, before he could demand why Ray had not trusted him, why he had stayed hidden for so long, the pain in his friend's expression reflected back to him. The anger vanished, replaced by the love that had marked a friendship for half his life. The love tore through him, releasing his mind to thought, releasing his tongue. He sat down with a little more of a thump than intended. 

"Ray..." He rubbed at his face. "Geez, you could give a guy a little warning before you drop bombs like that. You know, "Hey, Peter, sit down I'm about to shock you."" 

His attempt at humor brought a small smile to his companion's pale face. The look changed to one touched with guilt. 

"I'm sorry, Peter. I know you must think I don't trust you. I do. Honest, I do. It's just that..." He took a deep breath. "When I first met you guys..." 

A soft sigh and Ray turned away. "I knew all along I was different. Sex wasn't something talked about in the foster homes I grew up in. And the word homosexual wasn't in their vocabulary, only words like fag, queer..." 

Peter watched Ray's expression as he talked. He wasn't blushing, a condition normal for Ray when talking about sex. It was as if the subject were too serious to allow embarrassment or, Peter realized, what they had taken to be shyness might have been a combination of avoidance and guilt. Peter shied away from the term lying but the fact was that for eighteen years Ray had covered up to them. There was no return of his anger, only a sympathy for how hard it must have been on his friend. 

"I had come to terms with being gay just before we met," Ray continued. "I gave up pretending to date, just dug into the books." 

His voice grew softer and he avoided Peter's look. "I was afriad to tell after we became friends. You and Egon were the first real friend's I'd had. I didn't want to do anything to lose that. I planned on telling you, everyday I planned on telling you. But when we started the business, I was afraid of costing us jobs if anyone found out. Then I just kept making excuses..." 

His voice was growing more and more soft, filled with sorrow. Peter came to his feet, taking Ray in a hard hug. "Hey, hey. It's okay. Geez, Ray, we're standing next to our best friend in a hospital bed because someone wants to kill his own son for being gay. You don't have to explain." 

But Ray, as usual, was not easy to convince. "I'm sorry. I should have told you." 

Giving the man another hard hug, Peter pulled away. "Have you ever told anyone before?" 

A shake of the bowed head. "I'm not completely sure why I'm doing it now. I was mad, seeing Egon hurt, Richard and Steve treated so badly." Quietly he said, "I needed to know it wouldn't happen to me." 

Before Peter could call him stupid for even thinking such a thing, Ray looked up again, this time there was confidence in the amber eyes. 

"I knew you wouldn't do that to me, Peter. I knew you'd be mad but I knew you'd stay." 

The confession melted Peter's heart, brought barely controlled tears to his eyes. "Damn right," he whispered hoarsely. A disturbing thought followed this one. "And you know Egon and Winston won't either." 

To his surprise, Ray flinched, staring again at the floor. "Ray?" 

"Egon won't be upset," Ray admitted. "But I'm not so sure about Winston." 

Peter started to protest, stopped. Winston was the most conservatively raised. And he had been unusually quiet during this case. Still, Peter knew deep down that Winston wasn't prejudiced. Reaching out, he laid a hand on Ray's shoulder. 

"I think Winston will understand. But it's your call, Ray. No one will ever hear any of this from me." Reluctantly, he broke contact. "You'd better get home. Winston is waiting for you. And you go to bed once you're there, understand?" 

"Yes, mother," Ray smiled. 

Peter's doubts were not laid to rest. "I mean it, Ray. No research and no worrying about what you've told me." 

"Peter," Ray said firmly. "I've lived with this all my life. I'm not going to worry about it now." 

"I just meant," Peter explained. "That if you wanted to talk later..." 

"Uncle Peter will be there," Ray completed with a smile. 

As Ray started to leave though he grabbed Peter in one of the strongest hugs the psychologist could remember. 

"Thanks, Peter." 

Peter sat in the quiet room most of the night, marveling at how calmly he was taking Ray's revelation. Maybe eight years of psychology had finally paid off. Or maybe he was still in shock. He smiled, he knew it wasn't shock. Maybe he had suspected or maybe he just didn't care who his friend loved as long as the bond between the four of them remained unchanged. Another smile touched his mouth. All those refused blind dates now made sense. Maybe one day he'd be able to kid Ray about it. Or one day even try another blind date with someone more to Ray's taste. One day. 

The hall door shifted open, spilling light into the room. He look up at Winston, not embarrassed by the hand he had wrapped tightly around Egon's slender fingers. 

"Why do I think that's the same position you found Ray in?" Winston commented. 

"Seemed like a good one," Peter answered. Knowing it was time to leave, he released the hand and stretched back in the uncomfortable chair 

"Did you and Ray get any sleep?" he asked hoarsely. 

"A little," Winston admitted. "Ray promised to try again before you pick him up." 

Peter stood, motioning Winston into the chair. The bigger man took it, letting his hand take the same location that Peter's had been in. He sighed deeply, prompting Peter to lay his hand on one square shoulder. The strong muscles sang with tension. 

"You okay?" Peter questioned. 

"Yeah," Winston said, sighing. "Just sometimes I feel a little useless." 

Peter frowned. He knew that Winston had felt outclassed when he had first joined the unit but he hoped that those feelings were gone, lost under countless rescues by the newest ghostbuster. Shaking the tight shoulder, he said, "We've had this conversation before. You're here to keep the rest of us from going gonzo remember?" 

Winston chuckled at the old argument that he was the only sane member of the team. "Okay, that's not it exactly. I just hate when I let one of you guys get hurt." 

"Let!" Peter dropped to his knees next to the chair, met Winston's dark eyes. It seemed that his degree was paying for itself on this case. "You didn't let anything happen. Egon would be the first to say that. I don't want to hear anymore of this shit. You're going to sound like Ray soon." 

"Oh, Lord, anything but that," Winston joked. 

Peter wanted to say more, wanted to make everything alright for this friend as well as the worried one at home and the wounded one in the bed. But there were things they had to do. He smiled at Winston, maybe that was actually the answer for at least three of them - to do something. 

Gently, holding the mood, he said, "Once Ray figures out what Egon found we'll have that son of a bitch." 

Winston smiled with savage eagerness. "Yeah. That'll help." 

The library was in shambles. Proton beams had scored the walls, left partially charred books laying amidst broken shelves. All the marks were directly opposite the door, showing Peter that Egon had taken a shot at the ghost down here before leading it away from Richard. The ghost must have cut off the path to the door, forcing Egon upstairs. From the living room off the other side of the stairs, Peter could hear Richard arguing loudly with the inheritor of the estate, a cousin that he barely knew. 

Ray went by Peter into the library. While Peter was pleased that Egon had gotten off a couple of shots at the entity, he now cursed those same shots. They had scattered things to the point that they would have trouble locating whatever it was that had alerted Egon. 

"My cousin..." Peter jumped at Richard voice right behind him. "Sorry. I've managed to get an hour. After that my kind cousin will call the cops." 

Peter nodded, turning his attention to Ray. "What do you think?" 

The occultist shook his head. "All these books seem to be on the occult. Finding exactly the right one is going to be tough." He looked directly at Peter. "That's assuming it's a book." 

"Okay," Peter said with forced optimism. "You and Richard start in here. Richard, did your cousin say if he'd cleaned up or anything?" 

"They boarded up the window in the bedroom, that's it." 

"I'll go upstairs," Peter volunteered. "See if anything seems out of place." 

The walk up the long staircase was normal but as he started into the bedroom, Peter's hand froze on the carved handle. For one horrible moment all he could see was the scene from the previous afternoon. He took a deep breath, knowing that he would be seeing it in his nightmares for a long time to come. Opening the door, he forced himself to look at the dried blood on the thick carpet, at the boarded window and stained walls. The desire for revenge arched through him. 

He closed his eyes, told himself to be calm, that he was here on a mission, a mission that would lead him to the entity responsible for his friend's injuries. Opening his eyes, he started a careful search of the room. He smiled at that thought, it was difficult to carefully search for something that you may not even recognize. 

Fifteen minutes later, he found it. It was small and obviously out of place. Snatching it up, Peter sprinted for the stairs. 

"Ray!" 

"Peter!" 

"I found it!" They called together. 

Ray came up the stairs, Peter rushed down. 

"How can you have found it?" they said, in stereo again. "I found it." 

Peter held out his hand. "This was upstairs near where you found Egon. It must have been what Egon found. He was probably carrying it when the thing slammed him into the window." 

"That fits!" Ray said excitedly. "I found the book with the binding spell in it. The page was circled. The caller must have some object to attach the power to." 

"Ray," Peter pleaded. "You're sounding like Egon. In English." 

Ray reached over and took the small etched stone out of Peter's hand. "Daniel Genkins used a spell to charge this. He's drawing power from this thing." 

Peter's blood raced through his veins, he grabbed the thing away from Ray, tossed it on the floor and unlocked his thrower all in the same motion. "Then let's get rid of it." 

"No!" 

Ray's yell came just as Peter fired. His aim was prefect -the beam struck the object dead on, ricocheted off and blew out the front bay window. Ray pushed Peter's nozzle up. 

"No, Peter, that won't ..." 

Richard suddenly charged up the stairs and grabbed them each by the arm. "Let's get out of here." 

Given no chance to protest, they followed the man out, sprinting across the lawn and into Ecto. Ray gunned the motor and sped off. In the back Richard began to laugh. 

"What?" Peter demanded. 

"I told my cousin that we wouldn't hurt anything," he chuckled. 

The two Ghostbusters sensed his obvious enjoyment of the way the situation had turned out and joined his laughter. 

"The object can't be destroyed, Peter," Ray explained after their laughter had died down. "It has to be, well, sort of exorcised. And I'll have to find the right spell to do it. That will take some research." 

"Then don't spare the horses, buddy," Peter urged. "Let's get Richard home then get to the firehouse and do it." 

Ray pushed the hospital room door open just ahead of Peter, letting out an immediate cry of joy. Peter shoved by him, came to a stop and stared into Egon's sleepy blue eye. Ray rushed forward obviously intent on hugging his returned companion, but he stalled at the still attached IV and multitude of bandages. With an undaunted grin he grabbed Egon's hand, hanging on happily. Winston stood on the opposite side of the bed, smiling just as widely. 

"Egon, you're awake!" Ray said unnecessarily. 

A single eyebrow arched over the undamaged eye. "Obviously," Egon whispered. 

As much as Peter wanted to copy Ray's move he had his image to consider. Very casually, he walked to the end of the bed and crossed his arms. "So, Sleeping Beauty, are you finished goldbricking?" 

That gained him a smile. But the smile faded as Egon started remembering what had put him into the bed. He cleared his throat, voice gaining strength. "Winston said Richard is okay. I found..." 

"Hey, big guy, way ahead of you," Peter kidded happily. 

"We found this." Ray held out the stone. "And I discovered the spell that Daniel Genkins used to bind the energy." 

"You'll need the alternate spell, the breaking spell," Egon explained intently. 

Peter slipped closer, Winston moving tactfully out of the way. He lay a hand on Egon's seemingly frail shoulder, his smile had faded. "Relax, Egon," he said softly. "We know we have to find the other spell. But while we're busy, you get to lay here quietly for another day." 

"There's something you need to know," Egon said, blinking hard to stay awake. "The entity could have killed me." 

Peter flinched at that, watched Ray avert his eyes as the mere thought bought pain. "Yeah, we know." 

"After the first attack, he broke off. I think... could be several reasons..." Egon was blinking furiously, yawning. 

The three healthy Ghostbusters exchanged affectionate looks around the bed. 

Ray picked up his line of thinking. "The charge on the talisman may be limited. He's controlling the class threes so that's using a lot of it. He may be also limited to only one killing." 

A yawn answered him and as they watched Egon quit blinking and surrendered to healing sleep. 

"About time," Peter muttered, only now taking Egon's other hand. 

"Hey, that means Egon's safe now," Ray observed. "If Genkins didn't kill him when he had a chance, he won't be after him now." 

Winston sat down in the hard chair. "Thank goodness. Dr. Morris came by, we can take the big guy home tomorrow. They can arrange a visiting nurse to come by a couple times a week to check the eye until Dr. Morris clears him." 

Peter looked over at Ray, found his smile to be infectious. "Great! Let's go home and hit the books." 

"If you were looking for someone," Winston speculated, "where would you look first?" 

Peter yawned. "Places where the person goes." 

Nodding, Winston said, "Genkins' already done that." 

Seeing what Winston was after, Peter sit up straighter. "I see. Where will Genkins try next since he hasn't had luck with clubs or places like that?" 

Their speculation was cut short by a yell of triumph from the library. "I've got it!" 

Ray came jogging in, open book in hand, smiling widely. Peter exchanged a hopeful look with Winston. 

"Okay, Ray, in English, let's have it," Peter prompted. 

Ray lay the heavy, ornate book on the old table, and with his eyes still skimming the spell, pulled out a chair and sat down. "This is going to be easy. All we have to do... oh." 

The fall of his expression proved to Peter that how ever easy the spell had first seemed it had taken a decided turn for the not so easy. Ray's mouth thinned out, worry lines appearing along his forehead. Peter reached out, squeezed his upper arm. 

"Give already, Ray, don't leave us in suspense," he chided jokingly. 

With a deep breath, Ray said, "We have to get the stone and the entity together." 

Shooting Winston a puzzled glance, Peter ventured, "That doesn't sound..." 

"Not just in the same room kind of together. They have to physically touch for a few seconds." 

"In other words," Winston stated, "we can't just throw it at him." 

"We need to have some kind of bait," Ray speculated quietly. "If someone were to hold the stone and Genkins came to them..." 

"Too dangerous," Peter said firmly, dismissing the idea without another thought. 

But Ray's expression turned inward. "Eighteen years is a long time," he muttered. 

"What?" Peter questioned. 

Ray looked up, met Peter's eyes. There was a familiar combination of enthusiasm and fear in the amber gaze. The same shiver of worry that had touched Peter in the art shop traced up his back again. 

"Ray, what are you thinking?" Peter asked. 

When Ray answered him it was in a very level, slightly hesitate voice, "I may have a plan." 

Peter knew the signs, knew whatever the plan was, it was going to be dangerous and he wasn't going to like it. 

"What?" he asked. 

There was no answer forthcoming as the special phone line from the mayor's office rang. Winston gave his two companions a hesitent look then reached for it. 

"Yo, your honor, what's cooking?" he asked nonchalantly. 

Peter didn't have time to enjoy Winston's unflattering approach before Winston suddenly sat bolt upright. 

"Yes, sir! We're on it!" Winston slammed the phone down, standing and heading for the stairs. "I know where the gooper is." 

Peter and Ray were right on his heels. "Where?" Peter demanded as they reached the lockers. 

"Ransacking the Hall of Records." 

"Of course!" Ray snapped his fingers. "That's the best place for starting to look for someone." 

"Exactly," a deep voice spoke from behind them. 

They whirled as one, exclaimed as one, "Egon!" 

The tall blonde was standing inside the door, struggling to remove the heavy coat that was buttoned down over the broken arm. Peter moved, reaching him, easing the coat off, then guiding him to Janine's desk and pushing him down into the chair. His mind jumped between anger and joy, finally settled on exasperation. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" he demanded. "We were suppose to pick you up at 2:00!" 

"The doctor attended his rounds earlier than expected and signed my release. Since I am feeling fine I saw no reason to wait for the ride." 

"You could have called, man," Winston chided. He put his hand on Egon's shoulder. "You look like an ad for the Red Cross." 

Egon answered Winston's accusation with a soft smile. "Taking a taxi accelerated the process of getting home." 

There was such a wealth of relief in the simple final word that Peter's further nagging died immediately. He reached over and rubbed Egon's tight shoulder, slight tremors ran under the blue cotton, disproving Egon's claim of feeling fine. The more immediate danger to their client prevented Peter from expressing his displeasure and joy to Egon as he would have wanted. 

"Okay," he said gently, "you're home. Now we have to ride to the rescue of..." 

"I understand. You and Winston proceed to City Hall. I'll contact Richard and have him retreat to this location as soon as possible." The tall scientist twisted to look up at Ray. "It would probably be best if you were to stay here and explain what you've found." 

Peter wanted to protest, knew that Egon needed to rest, but he also knew that most of their cases were solved by the two in front of him. And despite the weary look and white lines of pain around Egon's mouth, the man wouldn't rest until the situation was under control. 

"Okay. But nothing exciting until we get back, understand?" he warned. 

Egon managed to convey his feelings on that statement very well with just one blue eye. 

"This way!" Winston charged forward, pushing through the last set of doors, thrower ready. 

Peter stopped next to him, both of them ankle deep in destroyed files. Two ghosts swooped at them, trying to distract them from the thing that had been Daniel Genkins and was now a monstrous form ripping files from metal cabinets. They fired together, driving the creatures away. 

"He's mine!" Peter yelled. 

"I've got the other two," Winston acknowledged. 

Both ghosts did barrel rolls, peeled away from the walls and came at them. Peter left them to Winston, drew down on the main target. Genkins continued his mad search without pause. As Peter's finger caressed the button the class Five let out a yell of triumph. Throwing a file in an arch across the room, it soared upward, plunging through the roof and escaping. The other two followed. 

"No! No! No!" Peter screamed in frustration, his ray blasting a large hole in the roof as he tried to stop the creatures retreat. The pages of the file fell like large snowflakes around him. 

"He must have found Richard's address," Winston commented as he moved to join Peter. 

"Yeah. But by now Richard should be at the firehouse." 

Peter glanced down at the remnants of the file, old bits of information that only the city knew the meaning of, a single piece attracted his attention. He bent down, picked up the paper slowly, and the chill he'd known in the firehouse returned, became pure Arctic ice. 

"Ray's plan," he muttered to himself. 

"What?" Winston questioned. 

With a suddenly shaky hand, Peter held out the page. It was a copy of an old photo, purpose long lost but still in the file. It was Richard Genkins many years earlier. 

"Eighteen years is a long time," Peter repeated Ray's statement. 

"Peter will you please make sense," Winston begged, taking the picture. "This is a picture of Richard ..." 

"Or Ray with a beard and darker hair," Peter said. 

Light dawned in his companions dark eyes. "We need to get home before they do something stupid." 

"Too late," Peter told Winston as they walked into the firehouse to be confronted with exactly what they had feared. 

At the bottom of the stairs were two versions of Richard Genkins, younger and older. Panic grabbed Peter, he stormed forward making a grab for the convincing looking beard that Ray now wore. But Ray dodged deftly out of the way. 

"Peter!" he snapped. 

"This is the craziest idea you've ever come up with!" Peter returned sharply. "You are not going to do it." 

"I've already tried to talk him out of it," Richard added. "But he and Egon seem convinced..." 

"The plan is sound, Peter," Egon told him from the top of the stairs. 

"I don't care!" Peter called up. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he stepped back. "Look at the two of you. Egon, you can barely stand up and shouldn't even be trying. And that beard, Ray, wouldn't convince a ghost as nearsighted as Egon." 

"Peter," Winston spoke levelly from behind his shoulder. "I think we need to go upstairs, sit down and talk this over like adults." 

Several caustic remarks came to Peter's mind, all fueled by fear. Still holding onto his fragile calm, he turned to Richard. "Would you mind waiting here for a minute?" 

Richard shook his head at what he obviously felt was a hopeless task. "I don't think wishing you luck will do much good. I'll make some lunch." 

In sullen silence Peter followed Egon and Ray into the living area. Winston trailed behind, no happier than Peter over the suggested solution to their current ghost. He pulled the door closed behind them. There was a single moments pause while everyone took a deep breath. 

"This is the stupidest idea you..." Peter started. 

"I can't believe..." Winston continued. 

"The danger involved will be kept..." Egon defended. 

Only Ray stood silent. After a minute the other three noticed, turning to him in puzzlement. Crossing his arms he regarded them with calm neutrality. 

"So, why haven't you jumped in on this?" Peter demanded. 

"Because there's nothing to jump in on," Ray replied. "Peter, I once acted as bait for the Bogeyman; you once drew off that Class Six shapechanger; only last week Winston ran in front of that subdemon to draw him into our trap and Egon's done more of the same." 

Ray paused, letting what he'd said stand between them. He finished by asking, "Explain the difference between those times, those dangers and what I'm about to do?" 

Smiling in triumph, Peter poked his finger into Ray's chest. "In none of those situations did the spud have to touch any of us." 

"Peter," Egon spoke up. "We believe that Genkins will want to be very certain of his target. He will feel out Ray to determine if he is Richard before he does any harm. While that is happening the stone's charge will be bleeding off allowing..." 

"What makes you think he won't be able to see though that phony beard on the first touch?" Peter picked up. 

"We have taken care of that," Egon continued, reaching to rub around the bandage over his eye. "I am going to hypnotize Ray, and the plant the suggestion that when the ghost touches him he'll go blank on his name for two seconds..." 

"And what about the other thing?" Winston questioned. "What if Genkins keys on the fact that you aren't gay? How are you going to fool him on that one?" 

Peter controlled his urge to take a sharp breath. He waited, knowing that Ray could let it ride, push the plan as it was, or he could use the opening to tell his other friends. The youthful face revealed nothing of the storm of emotion that Peter thought Ray must be facing. Or perhaps, he realized, Ray had already faced this moment so many times in his mind that reaction was beyond him. 

Egon frowned, stroking his chin. "That could be a problem. I..." 

"It won't be a problem," Ray said softly. 

His amber eyes met Peter's, holding the same calm expression that Peter had seen the previous day in the hospital. This time though there was a touch of uncertainty in the clear brown as Ray turned toward Winston and Egon. 

"I won't have to fool Genkins," he said steadily. "I am gay." 

"Come on, Ray," Winston returned immediately, "this is not the time for trying to be funny." 

Egon only stared at him with the neutral sort of look that Egon always wore when confronted with a monumental announcement. 

Carefully, Ray uncrossed his arms, shrugged in a helpless little of motion. "I'm not kidding, Winston. I am gay. That's why I'm the perfect bait." 

A dozen possibilities clicked through Peter's mind as he tried to describe the emotions that ran across Winston's handsome face. Mostly it seemed to be just plain shock, but before that could settle, one filtered out that surprised him, fear settle in Winston's black eyes. Ray saw it to and reached out toward the bigger man. Winston backed away. 

"No," Winston whispered. 

Avoiding both Ray's and Peter's outstretched hands, he retreated through the door and up the stairs toward the roof. Ray started to follow but Peter snagged his arm. When Ray turned, Peter nearly flinched at the guilt in his friend's expression. 

"Let me," Peter requested. Then in a reassuring tone, he added, "I'm sure it isn't what it looks like." 

"When everyone is finished with the dramatics could we return to the problem at hand?" Egon asked quietly behind them. 

Turning slowly Ray faced the third member of the only real family he'd ever known. Egon was regarding him with an impatient look. Peter smiled, feeling that most of the world was still responding normally. Grabbing Ray from behind by the upper arms, Peter gave him a shake. 

"Told you," he whispered into Ray's ear. 

But Ray was frowning, naturally upset with Winston's response. "Egon... this isn't a phase..." 

Egon favored him with a withering gaze. "I understand that, Ray. It would be stupid to imply that it was." 

Peter barely controlled his laughter, silently cheered Egon on. As he watched the patented patient scientist look changed, melted into an expression of infinite caring that the tall blonde usually managed to keep hidden, though with Ray his control always failed. He came forward, lay a large hand on Ray's tight shoulder. 

"I realize that keeping this a secret has probably been trying. I also realize that telling us was probably just as difficult." Over Ray's shoulder Peter watched a touch of jealousy enter the azure eyes. "Though I assume Peter knew before..." 

"He told me yesterday," Peter explained easily. "You were napping at the time." 

The look faded, replaced by the understanding that something about the current situation had encouraged Ray to tell his long held secret. Egon didn't ask what, merely gave Ray's arm a squeeze. 

"No lectures?" Peter wondered. In their triad it had always been Egon that held the more fatherly position. 

"Peter," Egon chastised. "Ray is an intelligent adult. I'm certain that he knows all about safe sex as well as the other problems inherit in this type of relationship." 

"Uh, yeah," Ray blushed as usual and ducking his head. 

Peter laughed, giving Ray a short hug. Looking at Egon, he silently told him to take care of their friend while he handled their missing teammate. Egon nodded. 

"Okay," Peter said cheerfully. "Time for you two to get back to work. Winston's had enough time to pout, I'll go bring him back." 

"Peter," Ray started, "maybe..." 

Holding up his hand, Peter said, "Nope. This is one for Dr. Venkman, psychologist supreme." 

That it was cold on the roof was the first thing Peter noticed. His following thought was that neither he or Winston had been wearing coats. Winston was nowhere in sight. Peter thought of calling out, then decided it would be better to simply find him. The roof wasn't big. 

Finding him only required taking a left around the stairwell. Winston had the good sense, even when upset, to sit with his back to a wall that blocked the wind. The bigger man was sitting crosslegged, head back, eyes closed. Peter was not sure what he had expected but the look of weary defeat wasn't it. He sat down, knowing Winston had heard him come up. 

Making himself comfortable next to the other man, Peter stretched his legs out and waited. But, unlike Ray, this time it didn't work; Winston refused to look at him, never uttered a sound. The cold started to creep up Peter's back, wearing on his muscles and patience. Finally, as the sun was just starting to disappear behind the old buildings, he stood, sighing. 

"I'll be downstairs. If you want to quit, I'll understand." He started away, stopped. "No damnit!" 

He whirled back, all the anger he'd been carrying over the general injustice involved in the case suddenly demanding release. "No, I don't understand! How can you do this to Ray? A man that's saved your butt a thousand times! A man that's offered his life for this miserable world more times than I can count! How dare you judge him on who he chooses to love! How dare the world condemn him for that! Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, what is ..." He took a deep breath, then another, decided against pounding the wall. "I thought you were better than that but if Ray being gay bothers you - leave. My only regret is what it will do to Ray." 

Fists clenched tightly at his side, Peter once again started for the door. A small, almost unrecognizable voice spoke behind him. 

"I love Ray as much as you and Egon." 

Confused by the whispered statement, by the voice roughened with tears, Peter turned back. Winston looked up at him and Peter's anger vanished like snow under a chinook wind. There were tears on Winston's cheeks and misery in his eyes. Peter stared, his own compassion forcing him to his knees in front of the other man. He reached out and touched Winston's arm. 

"I don't understand, Winston," he pleaded softly. "You storm out like Ray's got the plague then you sit here and tell me..." 

"Peter," Winston choked, "the last gay friend I had... I got him killed." 

And all the silences, all the short statements and avoided looks made sense. Winston hadn't been battling prejudice or hate or even fear, all this time it had been guilt. The blame he had mentioned in the hospital over letting Egon get hurt was only a glimmer of the problem. Kicking himself for not trying to get him to talk more Peter sank down opposite Winston. 

"Winston, no matter what you might think you did or didn't do, I know you. I know that if someone is a friend of yours you will go through hell..." 

"Wasn't in hell," Winston said, stretching out his legs. "Was in Harlem." He paused, looking at Peter with a sad half-smile. "Some guys would say that it's the same thing but it wasn't that bad for me." 

Sliding around to sit against the wall, Peter said, "You've never said much." 

"I was fifteen, mostly staying out of trouble. I didn't join any gangs or anything. Dad had just started his own company. We were still pretty poor but things looked like they were going to get better." 

"Anyway, there were five of us that hung together; me, Darrell from Chicago, Levon, Tyler and Jackson." He sighed but there was a smile of whimsy behind it. "One of the few times we did get in trouble was during the summer of my junior high school year. Jackson was a year older and had gotten some fake ID. We went out, bought a couple of bottles and got roaring drunk." 

"We got to talking about ladies, sex and such... and out of the blue Levon accused Darrell of being gay." He paused. "Well, Darrell didn't deny it. He didn't confirm but... the shit hit the fan. The other three started yelling at Darrell to get the hell away from them, about how he was a little fag, about all sorts of shit. Darrell just stared at them." 

"I hadn't said anything, couldn't think of anything to say, and he finally turned to me and asked if I felt the same way." Winston's voice grew softer. "I didn't. That was the hell of it, I didn't feel that way. I didn't care if he were gay or not... but I said yes. I told him I didn't want him around." 

"Funny, but I remember us all being cold sober by then. Right as he started out, he turned around and said, he hoped one day we'd know what friendship really meant." 

Winston took a breath, his voice surprisingly blank as he finished the story. "Six weeks later, he was beaten to death by a gang in the neighborhood. Someone had heard that he was gay. No one even tried to help him." 

"I had wanted to talk to him, wanted to tell him that it really hadn't mattered to me. I never did. I was afraid of the others finding out. We never went around the neighborhood alone, never. I should have been there when he got attacked; I should have told him that night to stay. But I didn't and it got him killed." 

Peter sat there, giving Winston a chance to come away from the dark memories, giving himself a chance to think of what to say. Before he could speak, Winston looked up at him. 

"Okay, Dr. Venkman, now you can tell me how my feelings of guilt are misplaced; how it really wasn't my fault; how I was young and under peer pressure..." 

"I could say all that," Peter agreed. "But you've obviously heard all of it before and still don't believe it. Besides, you did blow it twenty years ago." 

His blunt statement gained the response he had hoped for, causing Winston to take a sharp breath. Before he could dig into his guilt, Peter continued. 

"But that was twenty years ago, and now you have a chance to make it up, not only to Darrell but to yourself. If you are sorry for what happened, if you really love Ray, then you'll go back downstairs and make sure he knows how you really feel. And you'll make sure he stays safe..." 

From downstairs whole series of alarms went off. Winston and Peter stared at each other for a fraction of a second. Springing up, they raced down the stairs at a dangerous pace, coming into the main room in time to see Egon slam the closet door shut and duck under the driving attack of a class three. 

"Genkins!" Egon yelled. "He's found us!" 

"The packs," Winston grabbed Peter, shoving him toward the second set of stairs. "We gotta get the packs!" 

They made the lockers just as one of the class threes hurtled down the stairs at them. Winston ripped open his locker, grabbed his pack and rolled across the floor with it. Peter wasn't as fast; he had time to utter a curse of surprise as the ghost slammed him into the locker. A flare of pain shot up his side, taking his breath. He slumped to the concrete floor, fighting to get air into his lungs. A proton stream sizzled over his head, stopping the ghost's second attack. A second later Peter found himself lifted by strong hands under his arms. 

"Okay?" Winston demanded. 

Adrenaline overrode the pain and cleared the haze. Peter straightened. "Where'd it go?" 

"Upstairs," Winston said curtly. He yanked open Peter's locker, shoved his pack at him. 

Peter grabbed Egon's pack while Winston snagged Ray's equipment, giving them each a spare. A crash and a muffled cry of pain echoed from above, curling the fear into a tight knot in Peter's stomach. They took the stairs three at a time despite their additional burdens. Peter slid to a stop, thrower immediately coming in line with the ghost bearing down on a cornered, helpless Egon. The beam caught it and Winston threw out a trap, the odds against them dropped. Genkins, their main target was zipping in and out of the walls. Obviously having figured out that the Ghostbusters were aiding his son, he was now intent on finding Richard. 

"Egon!" Peter warned. 

In a deft move, he ripped off the extra pack, dropping it to the hardwood floor and kicking it across to Egon. Two red-gold streams covered the blonde as he slipped awkwardly into the pack, letting it hang over the already injured arm, winching as the weight pressed on cuts and bruises. Tight-lipped, Egon nodded his readiness to Peter. Peter returned the nod, then motioned Winston to his left so they formed a triangle around the room. They were as ready as they could be given the unexpected attack. 

Peter yelled, "Richard! Now!" 

The closet door burst open and Ray, disguised as their client sprinted out, apparently making an escape attempt. With a cry of triumph, the creature swooped, shrieking down toward Ray in a blur. Peter fought down the scream in his throat, for one horrible moment seeing Ray slammed and torn. At the last instant, as Egon had predicted, Genkins stopped, grabbing Ray in long tentacles of ectoplasm. In that instant, Ray's clenched hand flashed out, touched the glowing creature. 

Across the room, Egon grabbed for his PKE meter, flipping it open and aiming it at the locked duo of human and ghost. 

"Power is dropping!" he confirmed. He held up his hand. "On my signal, Winston grab Ray, Peter open fire." 

But things were not to be that easy. With a bloodcurdling scream the entity announced it's discovery of their deception. It shrieked again as it saw the stone clenched in Ray's hand, with a burst of power it started to retreat. 

Ray had other ideas. He grabbed a still solid tentacle, keeping the stone in contact. "No, you don't." 

"Egon?" Peter questioned loudly. 

"He's still too strong," Egon returned. 

Ray's move was more than the entity was willing to tolerate. It grabbed the Ghostbuster, lifting him off his feet. Ray yelped at the strain on his arm but keep the stone in position. Genkins dropped him hard to the floor; Ray shook his head, stunned with the stone and tentacle still held tight. keeping his hand on the tentacle. The entity started to swing him toward the window. 

"No way!" Winston screamed, getting there ahead of Peter and Egon. 

He wrapped long arms around Ray's legs, his extra weight causing them to hit the wall instead of the window. It was a solid blow and Ray feel loosely to the floor. Winston went down with him but rolled to his feet immediately. Genkins turned for another attack. Winston straddled his injured friend, reached for the talisman in Ray's limp hand. A tentacle snaked out, knocked the stone away. 

"Fire, Peter," Egon ordered. 

Their two beams, then Winston's struck the creature and held. Fighting, Genkins tried to gain altitude; the throwers bucked in their owners hands. Peter's hope grew as they lowered the creature slowly toward the floor. 

"Trap!" Peter looked helplessly at Winston and Egon. Egon was barely holding his thrower, having to brace with his injured arm. "Guys, I think we have a problem." 

"Have a little faith, homeboy," Winston assured him. 

Bracing his elbow between hip and the wall, Winston freed his other hand long enough to grab a trap. Throwing it hastily out, he slammed the petal. With a whoosh the unit unleashed it's interdimensional field. Seeing the light that signalled it's doom, the creature increased it struggles, surging toward the roof. To the Ghostbusters' dismay first one tentacle, then another pulled loose of their beams. Finally, with a powerful surge, Genkins was free. 

"He's getting away!" Peter yelled, cursing their luck. 

Their luck took an even nastier turn, as escape was not Genkins' intent. With a howl of anger, it turned, bearing down with murderous intent on Ray and Winston. 

"No way sucker," Winston declared, levelling his weapon, beam arching out. 

Winston's ray staggered the thing in mid-air, but didn't stop it's advance. It barely noticed Peter's beam striking it's back. 

"It's still weakened," Egon assured them, shouting over the crash of unleashed protons. "We can capture it." 

No one was able to respond. Peter was running, going into a long slide across the floor and coming gracefully to his feet next to Winston, his beam joining the other. A large tentacle circled his ankle, jerking him off his feet; his injured side screamed in pain and he bit off a curse. From the hard floor he watched Egon run toward their location. But the blonde never had a chance, a tentacle blindsided him, sending him to the floor stunned. 

Peter groaned, trying to gain his feet. Ray was out, he was down, Egon was never fully up, only Winston still stood, worried gaze taking in his fallen companions, obviously torn between who to protect. There was a pause in the attack as Genkins let out a long laugh of triumph, surveying his apparent victory. Slowly, with building speed, he started toward the lone man still up and the auburn-haired ghostbuster he was protecting. Like gunfighters in an old movie, Winston squared off, thrower ready as the creature came down. 

"Stop! Father!" The creature halted in mid-attack. Richard Genkins moved to the center of the room, calling in a loud, demanding voice. "I'm the one you want, Father." 

"Richard," Peter pleaded with a groan, "get the hell..." 

The man ignored him, continued to stare at the large entity. "Leave them alone. I'm the one you hate so much." 

With a shriek of recognition the entity turned. Richard made no attempt to move, only braced for the blow. Peter ground his teeth together, grabbed a table near him and lurched to his feet. Opposite him, he could see Winston abandon his post over Ray and start forward. They would both be too late. 

Vaguely, over the entity's howl, Peter could hear Richard's clear voice. "I'm sorry I disappointed you, Father." 

Staggering, Genkins' momentum slowed. The blood red eyes widened. 

But I won't apologize for what I am," Richard continued levelly. "I'm a professor and I'm proud of that. I work with the homeless and children and I'm proud of that. I'm gay and I'm proud of that. I'm sorry you didn't understand." 

Peter came to an unsteady stop, reached out to halt Winston. 

"These men are my friends. You have no cause to harm them. You used to admire them." 

Genkins had come to a complete stop, gradually he lowered to the floor. The green glos had died a little, the red of the too large eyes fading. It's size seemed to be diminishing, becoming more manshaped. Afraid to do anything that might change what was happening, Peter motioned Winston back toward Ray while he moved carefully toward Egon. 

Richard's voice took on an edge now. "Why couldn't you have understood? I loved you." 

Touching cold fingers to Egon's neck, Peter sighed in relief at the steady, strong beat, though there was blood staining the gray jumpsuit's arm. Forcing himself to not notice, Peter eased the PKE meter out of Egon's limp hand. The readings were much lower now, down to barely a class three. 

"Sssshhhammm.... fffaammiiilllyyy..." Genkins wailed, arguing against his sons statements. 

"Any shame on the family was only in your mind," Richard said harshly. "Aunt Rose, Uncle Walt, Gram, they all still write, they still have me at family reunions. They all still care." 

Peter stayed his hand, not signalling to Winston. Genkins was now almost totally humanshaped, taking him would be easy. 

"Nnnnoooo..." Genkins said, though Peter thought it sounded very small in the large room. 

Richard's next more took all of them, and prehaps even himself by surprise. In one step he closed the distance with the thing that his father had become and wrapped it in a hard hug, unmindful fo the danger or the slime. 

"I forgive you, Father. And I love you." 

Vaguely, Peter wondered how long he could go without breathing. Genkins moved, he brought his arms up, circled them around Richard's back. The inhuman look was gone completely; he was an ethereal ghostly form, smaller than his son. Peter could see tears on the transparent cheeks. 

"Love you," a ghostly voice whispered somewhere in the air. 

"Goodbye, Father." 

And then there were only two unconscious Ghostbusters, two tried Ghostbusters and one softly crying human in the room. 

Peter let Winston go in first, moved in silently behind him but stayed near the wall. Sitting on the edge of the examination table, Ray was buttoning his shirt. While there were no serious injuries, he was still a little shaken and his fingers missed one of the buttons. Winston paused for a moment, walked over and without a word finished buttoning Ray's soft shirt. 

Ray's eyes met the dark ones above him. The harsh light of the fluorescense reflected in the younger eyes, highlighting his growing hope. Winston smiled at him, a slow smile that said more than any words he could have managed. The smile arched between them, grew in an identical manner across Ray's pale features. Winston stood back, letting him gain his feet. 

"Let's go home, buddy," Winston suggested softly. 

"Yeah," was all Ray managed around the tears that roughened his voice. 

Through blurry eyes of his own, Peter watched them take each other in a tentative hug; tentative not because of outmoded ideas of sexual identity, tentative because of bruises and cuts. Unable to resist, Peter joined them, putting an arm around each. 

"Let's go get the big guy," he urged. 

Together, they said, "Can we go home now, guys?" 

Peter leaned against the door and watched Ray fiddle with the bowtie. After a minute an exasperated smiled spread across his face; he walked to his friend, turned him around by the upper arms and proceeded to do the tie. Ray smiled at him. Holding him at arms length, Peter whistled softly. 

"You look great, buddy." 

Ray flushed, tugging a little nervously at the tuxedo's cummerbund. "Thanks, Peter." 

As he turned to reach for his coat, Peter sat down on his bed, watching his friend's final preparations for the evening out. Ray's manner was light, displaying typical enthusiasm. But the motherhen in Peter wanted to be certain. 

"So, Ray," he asked lightly. "How is it?" 

Ray's expression was confused for a moment before he recognized what the question referred to. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled softly. 

"Scary." 

Peter immediately came to his feet, ready to help. But Ray held up his hand. 

"But it'll be okay." He reached out, took Peter's hand. "I know the press will start asking questions eventually and I don't intend to lie..." 

Peter's hand tightened. "You can tell them as much or as little as you like, buddy. It's no one's business but yours. No matter what you decide, you know..." 

"That you'll be there," Ray finished for him. "All of you." 

Peter could felt the strength in the hand that squeezed his, saw the trust and confidence in the amber eyes. He smiled, stated to say something and discovered there was nothing left to say. He pulled Ray into a hug, covering all the questions, doubts and nervousness with a single move. 

"Come on, homeboy." Winston suddenly appeared next to them. "We're going to be late." 

Releasing Ray with a final pat on the back, Peter glanced at Winston's sweatshirt and jeans. "You're not planning on joining Steve and Ray dressed like that are you?" 

Winston playfully cuffed him. "No, man. I'm just dropping Ray off at the theatre so Steve doesn't have to make the long trip." 

Several joking remarks about the proper procedure for dating came to Peter's mind but he let them go, not sure if Ray were ready to be teased. Ray and Winston called a goodbye to Egon in the den and headed downstairs. Peter joined Egon, walking to the window and watching Ecto disappear around the corner. 

The night was perfect, cold and so clear that Peter could almost imagine being able to see stars over the city. Again errant thoughts of romantic evenings made him smile. 

"What are you smiling about, Peter?" Egon asked quietly from where he was studying the TV Guide. 

"How much longer do you figure before I can start kidding Ray about Steve?" he asked, turning away from the crystal night. 

Egon merely shook his head. "I fail to understand why you would want to." 

Peter flopped down on the couch next to his friend, snatched the magazine away and started thumbing through it. Egon gave him half a glare from behind his patch, a threat that Peter completely ignored. 

"I've kidded him about all his other dates," Peter said blandly. "I fail to understand why I should give him a break now." 

There was no reply from the man beside him. Peter looked up, surprised to find a serious expression on Egon's face. "What?" he asked. 

With quiet concern, Egon said, "Ray's life has never been easy. I hope that his decision to be open will not cause him too much distress." 

"He can handle it," Peter said in absolute confidence. "Besides, aren't you forgetting something?" 

Egon smiled. "No, Peter, I realize that no matter what happens, we will be here for him." 

Peter slapped Egon's knee. "Exactly! What's a bunch of homophobic narrow-minded humans compared to Goozer or the Bogeyman or Cuthulu?" 

In a flat tone, Egon said, "There is something else to consider." 

"What?" 

"Ray is going to a fine dinner, then attending the theatre while you and I are enduring take out pizza and bad TV." 

"But we have each other," Peter said in a sultry voice. 

"Yes," Egon said drily. "But how do I know you're a good kisser?" 

Without warning Peter lunged, but even one handed Egon was faster and the smack of the pillow stopped Peter in mid-smooch.


End file.
